Sweet
by Tequila Sunrise
Summary: Sweetest sin. The phrase is overused, far as I'm concerned but even I know when to admit the bastards have gotten one right.


AN: Hey, guys. Tequila here. God, it's been forever, hasn't it? I got done watching Angel, and... I dunno. I had to write it. It's been a really tough year, but hey... Life's no fun without the hard stuff, right? Anyway, I'm writing on my own again, I guess. lol Well, no collaborations anyway. I haven't finished Convoluted, nor do I expect to. However, stranger things have happened. Like Spike and Angel getting it on. *slow wicked grin* Which you could sell me tickets to.  
  
Title? Sweet.  
  
Rating? This is R for non-graphic sexual references, and the use of naughty language... Ya know, words like 'fuck' that you don't say in front of Mommy.  
  
Who owns this? Joss Whedon, and lots of other scary people. Not me. HEY! ANGEL'S GETTING CANCELLED! To complain or ask for a Spike-centric spin off, go to allaboutspike.com for more details.  
  
Dedication? Actually... this is for me. *lifts shot of favorite alcohol* To getting over myself, and him, and him. To getting the balls to write something on my own again, and dreaming again after crashing and burning. Drink to London with me, guys. *winks and slams shot* Anyway! Read the story.  
  
Sweet.  
  
Sweetest sin. The phrase is overused, far as I'm concerned, people all thinkin' it's poetry bleeding, moving, turning, in it's simplest form. Well. That's why we ate the buggers, innit? And I hate clichee's. But even I know when to admit the bastards have gotten one right.  
  
So I'm thinking of it, now, rolling it around in my head, while I'm pacing about this monstrosity of an office, waitin' for that dumb fuck to finish whatever save-the-world scheme he's gotten himself into tonight. I almost can't help the walk, been doing it so long. Coat flaring, shoulders back, pursed lips, looking bored. God knows I have it down. Helps just the tiniest bit that Fred likes it inspite of herself, and it pisses Angel the hell off. I also can't help the smirk when I think of the words again.  
  
Sure. A lot of people thought Dru was his sin, his big one, ya know, besides goin' all leather-pants and tryin to end the world. Can't help the eye roll there, either, really. They do it of their own accord and derision. But we know, in the dark, the way no one ever would in the day light, who that honor, that truth, that piece of his soul belongs to.  
  
We both knew that my innocence had been more complete, that William was indeed a good man, more or less... Allright, maybe less good than just a fucking boring ponce.  
  
Angel remembered. No matter how much he bitched and snarled and pretended to be all irritated and... Yeah, well, okay. Angel wasn't really *pretendin* to be irritated anymore than I was *pretendin* to be irritating. Angel liked to have his mistakes gone. Atoned for. Or at least out of his perepheral vision six days a week. I don't much like to be easily set aside.  
  
Because as much as Angel looks at me, seeing a sin he can't confess for, a sin he can't fix, cause the sin quite likes the kink of being wrong in a really good way... Come deep night, it's not the sin Angel is thinking about.  
  
It's not the sin Angel's crying out about when my hands are digging into the meat of his shoulders, body twisting up to his, the sweetest rivulets of blood running from that spot on his chest... right over where his heart doesn't beat... where he fancies that soul resides.  
  
We never worry of perfect happiness. We both know it's nowhere to be found. We don't worry overmuch about redemption either, though I will kick the wanker's ass again, need be.  
  
So when Angel looks at me and sees his sin... My attitude, my naughty words, the way I fuck him into the floorboards and make him ask for more, and my own sins, the deaths added to his grand total through the making and training of me, the joy he got from teaching, from watching...  
  
The thing he's sorriest about is that he can't regret it.  
  
And if I say so myself, that's pretty damn sweet. 


End file.
